


Hey There Demons, It's Me (Your Dream Boyfriend)

by Thealmostrhetoricalquestion



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Demon Summoning, Domestic Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Magical Accidents, Unconventional Demon Courtship, a family can be one warlock and his shadowhunter boyfriend and a shy demon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2019-09-12 10:35:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16871356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thealmostrhetoricalquestion/pseuds/Thealmostrhetoricalquestion
Summary: Magnus accidentally summons the nicest Demon in the world, which promptly takes a fancy to Alec and starts doing his dishes, tidying up after him, leaving him homemade cookies, and just generally being lovely.Alec stubbornly refuses to admit that an invisible Demon has a crush on him. Magnus stubbornly refuses to admit that he’s a little jealous of the whole situation.The Demon just really wants to hold Alec's hand.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My last Malec thing was a bit heavy, so here's some fluff and ridiculousness. I'm having fun!!! Title is a meme, which will be expanded on later. No warnings, but rated T for later chapters and innuendo/swearing. Thanks!

Magnus folds his arms over his chest and surveys the mess on the floor. Or rather, he surveys the place where the mess had been only moments before, the mess that Alec was complaining about as he stumbled out of their bedroom, searching for his boots, late for work.

“You know, I’ve never done magic quite as easily as just then,” Magnus freely admits. "I wasn't even thinking about cleaning up, despite your grumbling."

The chalk pentagram—which hadn't worked—has been scrubbed clean in the last few seconds, and there are still suds soaking the floor beneath Magnus's socked feet. The herbs have been swept into a pile, the books put away, the candles blown out before any more wax can hit the floor.

Alec looks just as baffled as Magnus does, but he also looks tired and rumpled, and a bit frustrated, which seems to win out over his confusion.

“I don't think it’s dangerous,” Magnus adds. “Just a bit eager to please.”

“Maybe it’s just a fluke,” Alec says, as he steps over the wet floor, eyes darting here and there in search of his boots, which—ah. Yes, well.

“I think we can safely assume it’s not a fluke, considering neither of us knew where those were,” Magnus says, watching as the boots bob towards them in mid-air, accompanied by light footsteps. There’s a loud thump as the boots drop at Alec’s feet. Alec stares at them with a blank expression. The silence in the living room takes on an expectant, anxious air, like a dog waiting for praise after bringing its owner a bone.

Magnus wonders absently if that pentagram might have worked after all.

“What the fu—”

Magnus cuts him off hastily, aware that this could easily turn sour if what he's thinking is correct. “Don't forget your manners, darling.”

Alec huffs out a breath and glares at him, looking a very specific brand of pissed off that somehow manages to be hot. Or maybe that’s just Magnus and his tastes, since he knows what that glare and the right teasing words can lead to. If only Alec weren’t already late this morning.

Alec turns stiffly to address thin air.

“Thank you,” Alec says flatly, clearly not quite believing that there's something there. “I have to go now, but I appreciate you finding my boots, whatever you are.”

He turns to Magnus then, who steps neatly forward in time to catch the quick kiss pressed to his lips. Alec tastes like mint. Magnus wants to sink into the kiss a bit more, but Alec is ever-practical when he’s on a time-crunch, and very insistent on not using a Portal each morning so that the other Shadowhunters don't spend the rest of the day grousing. He draws back after a few seconds to grab his boots, much to Magnus's disappointment. The air stirs a bit more than usual with each movement.

“Fascinating,” Magnus mutters, eyeing the barely visible swirls in the air. It really doesn’t feel dangerous at all, and although he’s not usually one to take chances on things like this, especially where Alec’s safety is concerned, he's willing to let it slide while he investigates. The swirls can’t leave the loft, in any case.

“We’re talking about this later,” Alec says, an undercurrent of warning in his voice that’s more exasperated and fond than anything.

He shoves his feet into his boots as Magnus casts his mind back, trying to remember exactly how he worded his Summoning. It all seems correct in his mind, but there’s always a possibility—however slim—that he mucked it up somehow.

“I’m anxiously awaiting your return,” Magnus says, with a little wave. Alec’s glower doesn’t dampen the surge of delight Magnus feels at the whole situation. If anything, it only encourages it. “Miss you already!”

The door opens for Alec before he can touch the doorknob. Alec casts a bit of a wild look around the room, and then stalks through it, muttering under his breath. There's a long pause, and then door shuts very slowly behind him. The room gets colder.

“Chin up, sweetheart,” Magnus says, watching the swirls droop sadly. “He’ll be home later. Until then, why don't you come and sit over here, and we'll have a nice little talk.”

*

Alec finds Magnus sitting on the rug in the hallway when he gets back from the Institute, which isn't where the rug goes, for one thing. It was a long day of paperwork and complaints, and he can almost convince himself that he made up the weirdness this morning in a sleepy haze of caffeine-deprived stress, but he retracts that idea when he spots Magnus talking to thin air. The weirdness, it appears, hasn't gone anywhere at all. In fact, it only seems to have gotten worse in his absence.

“Magnus,” Alec says slowly, as he hangs his keys up and shuts the door, toeing off his shoes. “Everything alright?”

Magnus smiles at him, tipping his head back to do so. “Quite fine, Alexander. We just thought we’d wait for you here." He turns his head a little. "See, I told you he’d be back soon.”

“Who are you talking to?” Alec casts a wary look at the space on the rug beside Magnus, but he can’t see anything, barring the possibility of a faint glimmer. It could just be Magnus's magic, or a bit of light from the window. But then why would Magnus be addressing it? He gets his answer when Magnus’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, his gaze drifting sideways, and the bedroom door opens and closes in the distance.

There’s definitely something there.

Alec takes a cautious step forward. “Do I need to be worried? Are you going to answer me, or are you just going to have cryptic conversations with dust motes?”

“Dust motes can be scintillating, Alexander,” Magnus says, getting gracefully to his feet with a playful wink. “You just haven’t been talking to the right ones.”

Alec snorts, kissing him hello when he gets close enough. He likes this part of having a boyfriend best—the casual part, the intimate part where it’s normal to touch and kiss at the end of the day, to say _hello_ and _I miss you_ with hands and mouths just as much as with words. He likes that it feels normal, to be with Magnus, despite the strangeness of their lives. He was never sure he’d get to have that. He was never sure he’d be brave enough to go and _get_ that.

“Mmm,” Magnus hums, his eyes fluttering open as he presses both hands to Alec’s chest, leaning back slightly. “Good evening to you too.”

“You’re not wearing socks."

“You’ve never quite mastered the art of the segue, have you, love?” Magnus grins at him, all affection, and leads him into the living room. Barefoot, which Magnus rarely is. He always has fancy shoes on, even in the house, or his socks that he uses to lotion his feet, or expensive slippers with magical foot-healing fur lining, or something. They're only bare usually if he's painting his nails, and he always does that in the mornings.

“It’s just weird, that’s all, seeing your feet,” Alec says, wrinkling his nose. “Not that you have bad feet. What’s going on?”

“Well, first of all, I have excellent feet,” Magnus says, as they both reach the couch and fall onto their separate ends. “Secondly, we have a little friend staying with us. It turns out my pentagram worked perfectly, although I thought nothing had happened. I accidentally Summoned him this morning.”

Alec runs through that sentence in his head and immediately narrows his eyes, his hand darting down to his Seraph Blade, still tucked in its holster. Summoning, when it comes to Magnus and the endless magical, troubled clients that need his help, always means Demons.

“Calm down,” Magnus says immediately, laying a hand on his knee. “It’s a Demon, yes, but not one like I’ve ever encountered before. If it was, I would have done what needed to be done, you know that. This one seems… young. Different. There isn't anything dangerous or ill-meaning about it, as far as I can tell. I can’t hear it, quite, or fully see it, but I can gather what it wants and what it intends to do.”

Alec can’t help but lose the tenseness in his shoulders in favour of blatant incredulity. “And what does the Demon that you Summoned this morning intend to do, Magnus?"

“Laundry, apparently.” Magnus wiggles his bare toes pointedly. The bedroom door opens and closes again, and Alec watches, stunned, as a thick blanket, a dressing gown, and a pair of his own slippers floats towards him through the air. The collection of soft fabric hovers in front of him for a moment before bundling together in his lap, much to Alec’s spluttering surprise. His hands hover above his own dressing gown, and he feels suddenly wary and very lost in this strange new world.

“Magnus,” Alec says, throwing a look at Magnus, who appears to be hiding his laughter behind one hand. “This better be a bad joke, I swear.”

“No joke,” Magnus says, and they listen to the kitchen cupboards open and the kettle start to boil. “Absolutely no joke. Although there was one thing that I did fail to mention."

“What?” Alec gazes down at his lap, at his now-tainted slippers. “What could you possibly have forgotten to mention? Is there an elf here too that you’ve invited for the week? Pixies staying the night? A mermaid in the tub? I mean, you’ve already got a Demon washing your socks and—what, making tea? Is that what it’s doing?”

“Loose-leaf Mango and Bergamot, I believe,” Magnus says, mouth twitching.

Alec stops muttering to himself and looks at him askance, suspicious. “That’s my favourite.”

“Yes, I know,” Magnus says lightly, trailing one hand through the air as he leans back against the couch, comfortably at ease. “It was asking about you, so I told it that you were quite partial to a cup in the evenings. I can't glean much in the way of conversation unless it concerns you. That’s the thing I forgot to mention, you see Alexander." Magnus's mouth twitches again, and Alec grows even more suspicious, narrowing his eyes further. "It appears I have some competition.”

Alec opens his mouth to ask what the hell Magnus is talking about, when he catches sight of the steaming mug wobbling towards him in mid-air. There’s a little saucer too, covered in cookies and half a sandwich, all mushed together in what’s probably supposed to be a bit of a treat, but just looks like a toddler ate it first and spat it back out on the plate.

It's probably quite appetising to Demon eyes, Alec thinks, pushing back his panic in favour of outright staring, lost for words.

“It appears it’s taken a liking to you, out of the two of us,” Magnus says, his voice strained with the effort of keeping his humour hidden. “Amongst laundry and dishes, it, uh—well, it appears to intend to court you, as the older generations put it. You have an admirer, Alexander."

The tea wobbles even closer, and Alec, in his panic, takes leave of all his Shadowhunter senses, picking up his dressing gown and holding it very tightly out in front of him like a shield, at which point Magnus abruptly stops being able to hide his laughter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Alright,” Alec says, lowering the book slightly and squinting at the teacups. “Let’s get one thing straight. If you’re bored, you have to play with something that’s not going to break, understand?” 
> 
> The teacups squeak to a stop, and the silence that follows is almost offended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to add another chapter to the total, sorry! This is just quite fun, that's all! Also I've been sick so I haven't updated as quickly as I'd like! Thank you SO MUCH for the response to the last chapter, you're all really awesome :D Hope you enjoy! <3

Teacups and mugs are busy dancing on the kitchen counter when Alec wanders in, holding a book that Magnus asked him to read under his nose. He stops just inside the kitchen, watching the saucers rattle.

“Alright,” Alec says, lowering the book slightly and squinting at the teacups. “Let’s get one thing straight. If you’re bored, you have to play with something that’s not going to break, understand?”

The teacups squeak to a stop, and the silence that follows is almost offended. Alec doesn't know if it's because of the reprimand itself or the fact that Alec would ever _dare_ to think that the Demon would break something of Alec's. One teacup wobbles petulantly, but Alec resolutely ignores it. He’s supposed to be finding a specific spell for Magnus, who’s knee-deep in herbs and chalk drawings, not catering to the distracted whims of a childish Demon.

They've tried most things to make the Demon visible, but nothing's worked so far. This new spell is hopefully the answer, but it won't be if Alec can't read the book to find out which order to light the candles in.

Alec doesn't know why they haven't just sent the Demon back to its realm, but something in him balks at the thought. It feels wrong. Magnus hasn't suggested it, but they both know it's an option. It's more telling than Alec would like that the Demon is still shuffling around the loft, picking up socks and folding blankets. 

One of the teacups starts moving again. The box of Alec’s tea-bags shuffles along the counter, and he glowers as one floats over and drops inside the cup.

“I don't have many of them, you know,” Alec says, although he wouldn’t _mind_ a cup, exactly. “Magnus has to get them especially for me. Usually I have coffee. It’s in that jar—no, not that—yeah. That one. You only need one spoonful though or it’ll taste—ah, yeah, that’s fine. Never mind.”

There’s an anticipatory silence when Alec stops talking, grimacing at the three mounds of coffee taking up half the cup. He still can’t see the Demon, but he can imagine an expectant expression, all wide clueless eyes and an upturned mouth. That’s probably not what it looks like—most Demons are all limbs and shadowy snarls, teeth and eyes and spines—but picturing something softer makes Alec feel more comfortable about standing next to it in the kitchen. He pulls a face and moves to the fridge.

“Boil the kettle, I’ll get the milk. You know, I think my whole family would raze Brooklyn to the ground if they knew there was a Demon just wandering around my kitchen, making coffee.” Alec puts the book on the side and opens the fridge, peering in at the tomatoes and discarding a salad in favour of the other half of the sandwich he made earlier. “That’s if they believed me. You could be a ghost, or a warlock or something.”

“What was that, love?” Magnus asks, pausing in the doorway on his way to the study.

“I was saying,” Alec says, as he pulls the milk out and lets the Demon take it, “that it might be a ghost or a warlock or something. It’s not guaranteed that it’s a Demon.”

“Technically Warlocks have a little demon in them!” Magnus says, gesturing with one of the thick pillar candles in his hands. “But are you doubting my theories, Alexander? One day you’ll learn to trust my vast, overwhelming knowledge on all subjects, but until then, have a little faith. This particular Demon has the Magnus Bane guarantee.”

He winks, tossing the candle up in the air and catching it again. Alec watches him saunter down the hallway and takes a moody bite of his sandwich, shutting the fridge. It takes a moment after the door shuts to realise that it’s still cold on his left arm. When he glances down, the hairs are standing on end. His skin prickles.

“S’that you?” he asks, swallowing his food. There’s no reply. The Demon can’t actually say anything, so far as they’re aware, although Magnus seems to be able to work out a few things from the way his magic reacts around the Demon. And there are a few Alec-related tidbits that crop up with relative ease, although Alec firmly denies Magnus’s suggestions as to why that is.

The cold moves away, and moments later, the lid pops off the milk carton and rolls across the counter.

“Pour the water in first, and then leave it for a minute before you put the milk in and stir it. With a spoon,” Alec adds hastily, envisioning sticky, spindly Demon fingers inside his coffee. “Are you alright in here? I have to help Magnus with something.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, unnerved by his own casual approach to Demon lessons, but ten minutes later, when he resurfaces from his stack of books in Magnus’s study, there’s a teacup full of cool, overflowing coffee at his elbow.

*

The meeting draws to a close much later than it should have, in Alec’s opinion. Monthly Progress Reviews always take much longer than they should though, being tedious, droll commentaries on performance with all the Shadowhunters present to witness each individual dose of humiliation.

The representative from the Clave marches out of the room, the door swinging shut behind her. Alec sinks back into his seat with a groan, closing his eyes as people start to disperse, muttering under their breath. Izzy puts a hand on his shoulder, sitting on the edge of the table and clucking sympathetically as he massages his temples.

“That was rough,” Izzy says. “Nobody got off lightly. Don't be too hard on yourself, Alec.”

“I’m not being hard on myself at all.” He probably will end up going over everything later and figuring out how to do better, eager to shoulder the weight of his role, but even he knows that the Clave is just nitpicking now, tired of the drama that always seems to originate from this Institute, snippy that they all keep disobeying the rules set down by the Clave and getting away with it.

“Alec,” Izzy says, plucking at his t-shirt with her long nails. “I have to ask, did you spill something on yourself this morning?”

“Uh, not that I’m aware of.” Alec cranes his neck to look at his short sleeve. “Why, is there a stain?”

“No. Was there a fire?”

Alec lifts an eyebrow and says slowly, “Again, not that I’m aware of."

“Did the ceiling cave in?" Izzy looks far too innocent to be believable. "Did Magnus throw glitter at you just before you left? Was there any kind of event that could fall under the label of a catastrophe or a disaster?”

“What’s going on?” Alec asks flatly, squinting up at her.

Izzy’s bright smile feels out of place, but he’s still happy to see it, even though he suspects it’s at his expense.

“Nothing, I’m just wondering why this is the first time I’ve ever seen you in something that looks new, clean, _and_ ironed. All at the same time. There’s no stains anywhere, no little rips or holes that you think nobody notices, and this actually looks like expensive material. Really expensive.”

Alec glances down at himself. He hadn’t even noticed, not really. His clothes had been folded up on the ottoman this morning when he woke up, smelling like their detergent and nicely pressed, but Alec hadn’t thought anything of it. Magnus was sometimes responsible for things like that, even though Alec’s told him not to bother countless times.

“I didn't notice.”

Izzy plucks pointedly at his sleeve again, and then pats him on the shoulder. “Of course you didn't. Come on, let’s go and soothe Jace’s ego. I think he was more pissed about this meeting than anyone else. Did you hear what she said about his technique when it came to hand-to-hand?”

Alec winces, the mystery of his new clothes pushed aside for a moment. “A back-flip, whilst sometimes useful for proving one’s lack of maturity in any given situation, is rarely necessary in a serious battle.”

Izzy sighs. “We’re going to need a lot of chocolate.”

*

It’s not until Alec gets home later that night that he remembers about the shirt. His slippers are waiting for him by the door, and he perks up as he slides his feet into them, leaving his boots by the coat rack. He remembers the Demon piling his slippers into his arms during that first evening, and wonders if it was the Demon or Magnus who left them out this time. Which suddenly opens up another avenue for the mysterious new shirt.

“Magnus?”

“In here, love.”

Alec finds him swaying in the living room to hushed music, a glass of something sparkly held in his hand. He’s got soft, colourful shadow on his eyelids, but the rest of his face is soft and free of make-up, and he’s wearing his favourite silk robe. His hair’s still wet, a bit fluffy from the shower.

“That’s a nice sight to come home to,” Alec says, propping himself up against the door frame, hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Better than nice.”

Magnus spins gently to face him, smiling. “Better than nice. They’ll put that on my gravestone, I’m sure. People will turn up in droves to sob at my funeral, and at the end of the beautifully lavish ceremony, Raphael will stand up and say, ‘Ah, Magnus Bane. He was better than nice.’ Between tears, of course.”

Alec grins, even though he doesn’t like jokes about Magnus dying, or funerals, or anything related to Magnus not being in the best possible state of health. “Raphael would be on a beach, moon-bathing. You’d have to feed him a ghost chilli to get him to cry.”

“I could just threaten to come back as a ghost and haunt him. Tears of hopeless despair look the same as tears of grief, don't you think?”

“Nobody’s dying, so we won’t have to find out,” Alec says firmly, pushing away from the door frame to kiss Magnus hello. His hands find the silky dips of Magnus’s waist and hold on, gliding over firm muscle.

Magnus hums against his mouth, pulling back ever so slightly to blink mischievously at him.

“Alexander, we haven’t even had dinner yet and you’re trying to feel me up.”

“Are you complaining? That doesn’t sound like you.”

“Of course not.” Magnus glides his hands over Alec’s arms, lingering on his shoulders, his sparkly drink hovering at their sides. “I was merely suggesting that we combine the two, naturally. How do you feel about licking lasagne off my naked body?”

Alec snorts, pinching his side and watching fondly as Magnus twitches out of reach, laughing.

“I might have some trouble with the pasta sheets,” Alec says wryly.

“I’ll cut it up really small.” Magnus winks. “Bite-sized pieces."

Alec feels his face do something gooey and soft that Jace would disapprove of. "I love you."

"And I love you," Magnus says, easily enough and with familiar warmth, until his gaze skips to the side. "Oh."

Beside Alec, the floating glass is tipped back in mid-air, the sparkly liquid inside disappearing at a rapid rate. Alec makes a frantic grab for the glass, but it wiggles out of reach and then falls to the floor, cushioned by a quick burst of magic.

“Did we just give a baby Demon alcohol?” Alec asks sharply, narrowing his eyes. He can’t see the damn thing to tell if it’s close to tipping over, or swaying on the spot, or if it’s going to be sick on Magnus’s rug. He also doesn't know why he's so worried.

“It’s not actually a baby, Alexander. It's not even a child. More like a teenager, if anything. It’s just young enough that it doesn’t know the ways of its kind yet. It’s probably still centuries older than you and I, though.”

“That didn't actually answer my question, but thanks.” Alec bends to pick up the glass, and shivers in alarm as his ass prickles with cold. He bolts upright at the speed of light. Magnus takes in his wide eyes, his concern visibly growing as Alec turns rigid, clenching the glass between his fingers.

“Did you cut yourself?” Magnus looks worried, coming closer to examine his hand. “I thought I got to the glass before it smashed.”

There’s another cold rush of air over his left butt-cheek, with a little more pressure this time, and Alec jerks forward. Magnus steps back, startled, and takes a loose hold of his arms.

“Alexander?”

“I think the not-so baby Demon just touched my ass,” Alec says, through clenched teeth. He can definitely feel something, and that something is very cold and very touchy-feely, determined to squeeze.

Magnus puts a hand over his mouth, coughing. His eyes sparkle. Alec narrows his eyes and reaches up to yank his hand away.

“Are you laughing?”

“As if I’d laugh at you,” Magnus says, definitely laughing. “The Demon probably just needed a little liquid courage, that’s all. Maybe he was jealous?”

“I’m being groped here,” Alec says, lurching away from the cold spot.

“Yes, and not by me,” Magnus says, with a sad, theatrical sigh. “The world we live in grows darker by the day. Alright, shoo.”

“Why are you shooing me and not him? I was comfortable,” Alec complains.

“Go and shower, while I teach the Demon about consent.” He presses a kiss to Alec’s mouth to tide him over, and Alec rolls his eyes before striding towards the bedroom, the cold spot fading from his ass.

“Just so you know, that’s not a sentence you should ever have to say.”

“Shower!” Magnus calls, without turning around. Alec moves to shut the bedroom door, but not before he hears Magnus mutter, “Cock-blocked by a Demon in my own home. This really is a dark world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm on twitter as @cococranberries (almostrhetoricalquestion) mostly yelling about Malec, if you want to see that. Hope you enjoyed! <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, the end! I went full sappyness here, so if it's too much I apologise, but there's just angst everywhere and I wanted something soft. Thank you so much for your lovely words on this ridiculous piece of silliness, I'm forever grateful!! Enjoy :) <3

Magnus taps a few keys on his laptop, frowning. His bank statement, which he hardly glances at these days, doesn’t quite add up, and there are pages open on his screen that he can’t recall opening. That doesn’t mean much, of course: Magnus is more of a go-out-and-buy-it guy, but he’s been known to indulge in a bit of online shopping before, depending on how rough the day was or how much alcohol was in his system. And yet there’s still something suspicious about it all.

“Alexander,” Magnus calls, rifling amongst the magazines on the coffee table, only to come up empty. “Alec, have you seen my card?”

“What card?”

Alec’s voice floats faintly over from the balcony. Magnus saw him wander out there earlier with a mug of something hot, but he’s since been distracted. It’s surprising, though, to glance up and catch sight of Alec through the open door, down on his haunches, wielding some kind of tool. Not a Shadowhunter tool, either, by the looks of it, though Magnus has no doubt that he could make most things into a formidable weapon if he wanted to. Alec has his back to Magnus, but he cranes his neck to repeat his question absently when Magnus doesn’t reply. 

Magnus abandons his laptop, although he’s beginning to think that’s how he got into this mess in the first place, and makes his way over to the balcony doors. The glass is unusually spotless. He notes a tub of soapy water, a little murky from the grime collected over the last few days, sitting on the floor outside. A sponge floats listlessly on top of the suds.

“My debit card,” Magnus clarifies, when he's closer. It’s not a very warm day, but the sun is still out. Alec’s put on a t-shirt that slides up a little at the back when he bends forward to poke at something out of sight. 

Tragically, the shirt slips back down when Alec sits up to outright stare at Magnus. “You have a debit card? _You?”_

Magnus regards him with faint amusement. “I’m used to breaking down people’s prejudiced opinions left and right, but this is a new one. Why the tone of surprise?”

Alec eyes him sceptically, the tool still caught in his hand. Upon further inspection, it appears to be a small, earth-covered trowel. The revelation does nothing to clear up Magnus’s confusion. 

“I just don't think I’ve ever seen you use a card. Or a bank.” 

“I keep one around for emergencies, mostly.” Magnus grimaces. “I take it you haven’t seen it, then?”

Alec shakes his head, before his eyebrows go up all of a sudden. “Do you keep it in a _wallet?”_

“No, I put it in a bejewelled safe, obviously,” Magnus says slowly, after a pause. When Alec snorts, he adds, “Obviously I keep it in a wallet. I had no idea I looked so dysfunctional on the outside. You’re supposed to tell me these things, Alexander. How do you think I pay when we go out for a meal, or for an evening together?”

Alec wiggles his free fingers in a frankly offensive, adorable demonstration of Magnus’s magic, before shrugging helplessly. “I don't know. All that stuff seems too normal for you, you know?”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” Magnus decides, after a beat. 

“It is,” Alec says immediately, standing up in one smooth, fluid motion that has Magnus sending an appreciative prayer of thanks to whoever’s listening for Shadowhunter genes. “It always is.”

“Mmm, flatterer.”

Alec accidentally nudges Magnus’s favourite glossy shirt with the dirty trowel when he reaches out to kiss him, but Magnus finds he doesn’t mind. Alec is warm and his mouth is soft and eager. It’s liberating, to kiss the man he loves out on the balcony, in broad daylight. Even if nobody can see. 

Or almost nobody, anyway. 

Alec stumbles into him, their lips sliding apart. He treads on Magnus’s toe and curses. The trowel drops to the floor with a clang, and Magnus steadies Alec with a wince. Alec steps off him immediately, but he can’t seem to move very far.

“Uh,” Alec says, swivelling his head round so fast that Magnus is afraid it might unscrew entirely. “What are you doing?”

“I _was_ enjoying you,” Magnus says, before he realises that Alec is talking to the blue-ish swirls plastered to his back, and not Magnus. 

The Demon clings to Alec’s waist. Alec sighs, stepping away from Magnus to pat the blue glow gingerly where a shoulder could be. 

“Were you here the whole time?” Magnus asks, bending to pick up the trowel and trying not to let his distaste for the ruined moment get in the way of a polite, even tone. Ruined moments have been happening more and more often lately, but Magnus takes great offense when they happen on the balcony. The balcony is where they’ve had some of their most memorable moments. 

The Demon still can’t talk, not quite, but it’s more vocal and expressive than it was a week or so ago. There’s a harrumph, like an old lady bustling out onto her porch to shoo kids off her yawn. The Demon clings tighter, if Alec’s grunt is anything to go by. Magnus rolls his eyes, handing a sheepish Alec the trowel. 

“They went to get water, didn't you?” Alec says, aiming his voice over his own shoulder. “Did you find some?” 

A watering can that looks old and dented floats through the balcony doors. Magnus doesn’t remember owning a watering can like that: he has a smaller one for his houseplants, but he has no idea where that is at the moment, so Alec’s been watering Carl and Ebony with a chipped mug recently, when Magnus isn't around to magic up a little beverage for them. 

Water trips out of the spout when it passes Magnus, and Magnus narrowly avoids getting his shoes soaked.   
“Hey,” Alec says sharply. “None of that.”

The Demon turns sulky, pouting. Magnus can see it in the way the blue darkens, and he rolls his eyes, almost incredulous. He’s put up with a lot of behaviour from demons before, but they’re usually of the more murderous, bone-eating variety, and not the moody teenage kind. 

The watering can passes without further incident, moving behind Alec to land in the corner of the balcony. When Magnus strolls around him, refusing to give the Demon a wide berth like he wants to, he spots a square box full of turned soil and several large sticks poking out of it. 

“What exactly are you doing?” Magnus asks, although he can guess. “I’m all for the creative expression, love, but you don't strike me as the type to indulge in a spot of horticulture.”

Alec chuckles, drawing near. The Demon does too, moving to pick up the watering can and pour water eagerly over the little plot. 

“We’ve covered coffee, sandwiches and how much laundry soap is too much,” Alec says, shrugging. His shoulder nudges Magnus’s, and Magnus leans into his touch easily. “I thought I’d teach them to grow something, and Clary had tomato seeds. I didn't ask why.”

“Them?”

“Clary heard me talking about an ‘it’ with you on the phone the other day and got all pissy.” Alec rolls his eyes. “I haven’t actually told anyone that there’s a Demon living here, so she just thought I was being an uneducated idiot, or something like that. She sent me loads of links, and I thought about it, and it seems weird to go with any other pronouns, doesn’t it? Do Demons even have a gender?”

Magnus starts laughing, putting his hand up to cover his mouth. “Alexander, I’ve never been in close contact with one for long enough to ask. Maybe some do, and maybe some don't.”

Alec shrugs. “So I’ve gone with ‘they.’ If we ever work out how to get them to speak, we can ask them again.”

“You do know we’re supposed to be sending the Demon back to its realm at some point, don't you, darling?”

The Demon makes a little growling noise, akin to that of a kitten in a rage. Magnus shoots them an apologetic look that goes ignored. 

Alec narrows his eyes at him, half-smiling. “You were the one who insisted the Demon was nice and didn't mean any harm.”

That was true enough. Magnus had been all for it, and fascinated by the chance to explore an unknown variable when it came to Demons. If there are good demons, then that… that opens up new worlds of possibilities. However, that was before this particular Demon started popping up everytime he and Alec tried to do more than stand within an inch of each other. 

“You seemed to find it funny, actually, if I remember rightly,” Alec adds drily, clearly thinking back to the night that Magnus first revealed the Demon’s intentions. “What changed?”

The Demon is still watering the plants. If they were tomatoes, or some sort of vegetable in the beginning, then Magnus doubts they still are. Probably some sort of aquatic variant at this point. 

“A man can change his mind,” Magnus says lightly, concentrating to get the water to stop seeping towards him. It does, and Magnus can sense the Demon’s disappointment when Magnus doesn't end up soaked. 

“That’s probably enough,” Alec says to the Demon, striding forward to crouch beside the blue glow. Without hesitation. Which makes the Demon blush, if the darker blue around where their cheeks would be is any indication. 

Magnus caves. It’s sweet, and the Demon doesn’t _actually_ have a problem with Magnus, as far as he’s aware. Just his relative closeness with Alec. 

“I’ll leave you to your gardening, then,” Magnus says, with a little wave of his hand. “If you run out of inspiration, I’ve always had a fondness for eggplant.” 

Alec hates filthy emojis. Magnus winks, and leaves Alec scowling at the back of his head, a smug grin in place.

*

Over the course of the next week, the Demon learns lots of new things. Alec watches plant pots litter the kitchen windowsill. There’s cress, too, growing in cotton wool. They go through more coffee than Alec thought was possible, and it’s only when Clary appears in his doorway with an easel and a bemused expression that Alec considers things might have gotten slightly out of hand.

“Come in,” Alec says gruffly, stepping back to open the door wider. 

Clary huffs, dragging the easel inside and blowing her hair out of her face. “Thanks. Why am I here again? You weren’t very specific on the phone.”

Alec puts his hands in his pockets and grimaces. He’s not about to admit to Clary that he didn't think before he texted and asked for ‘something arty.’ He spots a flash of blue out of the corner of his eye and gestures urgently for Clary to move into the living room. 

Clary stumbles over to the couch, alarmed. “Is everything alright? Do you need Izzy or Jace? Where’s Magnus?”

“Yes, no, and in the bathroom. Look, just, don't overreact, okay?” Alec glares at her half-heartedly. “I know you’re good at that.”

Clary tips her chin up, her eyes narrowed. “What’s going on? Why do you need art supplies?”

The Demon pounces, wrapping their arms around Alec’s shoulders and hiding their face shyly in his shoulder. Alec sighs, aware that Clary’s watching, slightly wide-eyed and clearly baffled. 

“That’s not Magnus, is it?”

“No.” Alec sighs again. “It's a Demon.”

Clary stares at him. The stare doesn't go away, no matter how much Alec glares in discomfort. The Demon doesn't go away either, wriggling around on Alec’s back. 

“I think I’m missing something,” Clary says eventually, after half a minute of silence. “Was this some secret part of the Shadowhunter Codex, or a weird Clave thing that nobody’s taught me yet? You did say Demon, right?”

“Indeed he did,” Magnus says, swanning into the room with bundles of washed herbs. “Come here, biscuit, and I'll explain everything.” 

“I was about to tell her,” Alec protests weakly, even though he wasn't. 

“Somebody better say something,” Clary says, just as weakly. “Sorry, but you did say Demon, didn't you?”

“Oh, yes.” Magnus sends the herbs spiralling towards the table on a thin wave of blue. “A lovely little Demon with a splendid crush on Alexander, as much as he won't admit it.”

“It's not a crush,” Alec snaps. The words are slightly undermined by the pleased purring emitting from the Demon wrapped around him, koala-esque.

“They do everything together,” Magnus continues, ignoring Alec’s glower and Clary’s growing horror. “They grow plants, they bake cookies, they make tea and coffee together. Alec even has his own personal little laundromat given physical form.”

Maybe Alec is not as observant as he wants to be all the time with regards to Magnus, but he can tell there's something very wrong with this picture. Magnus’s eyes are sparkling with humour, and his stance screams relaxed, but Alec knows that face, and that mouth, and that tone of voice. 

“And now, what, you're painting together?” Clary asks, glancing at the swirly blue stuff around Alec’s shoulder. “Rather than… sending it home?” 

Alec grimaces when the grip around his chest tightens. He points a finger at Magnus, and says, “It’s not a crush.” Then he swivels to face Clary, pointing at her too while he says, “And yeah, but don't tell Jace.”

*

Clary doesn't tell Jace. She tells Simon, who tells Izzy, who rounds everyone up and marches them all over to yell at Alec. Of course, she finds Alec in the middle of a lecture on how to sew buttons back onto jackets, needles and thread hovering around him, and the yelling immediately turns into a large make-fun-of-Alec festival.

“If you were going to teach it important stuff, you could have started with weapon handling, and martial arts, that sort of stuff, you know.” Jace plucks up a bundle of yarn from a failed knitting attempt and grimaces. “Does it really need to know how to knit?”

“About as much as it needs to know how to kill us once we send it home,” Alec says flatly. “But at least I got a scarf out of my idea.”

Jace shrugs. “Point taken.” 

“Why does it have a crush on you, and not Magnus?” Clary wonders, chin propped up on her hand. Alec would take offence, but he sort of agrees. He glares at her anyway.

“I just mean because Warlocks are at least slightly familiar, aren't they?” Clary adds hastily. “And also because he's the one that actually summoned the Demon, right? You'd think it would imprint on him.”

“Maybe Alec gives off a vibe,” Simon suggests helpfully, from where he's helping Izzy untangle the beginnings of another scarf. He furrows his brow as he works, speaking aloud and seemingly not realising that they can actually hear his words. 

“Like a take-care-of-me vibe, maybe. You do have that whole innocent thing going for you, man, under all the deadly leather. Or maybe it's like a good boyfriend vibe! Maybe you're just putting out this aura, right, that says, hey, demons, it's me! Your dream boyfriend!”

Clary nods approvingly. Jace looks monumentally disturbed, so at least Alec can count on him to have his back. 

“You should probably stop making words with your mouth soon,” Izzy advises Simon, patting him on the shoulder. She meets Alec’s eye and jerks her head to the side, so Alec walks reluctantly around the table, following her into the hall. The Demon miraculously stays put, no doubt listening to Jace tell Simon all the ways in which he's a nerd. 

“Alec,” Izzy says, and she doesn't have to continue for Alec to know what she's going to say. 

“I know the Demon has to go back to their realm soon,” Alec says, heading her off. He shifts, uncomfortable. “It’s just… I don't know why the hell I want to keep them around, but I do.” 

Izzy grins at him fondly. “Your heart's too big, Alec. I know Mom’s been nicer to Magnus lately, but I don't think she'll welcome this one into the family with open arms, do you?” 

Alec snorts, picturing it. “Yeah, maybe not."

He stands for a minute, not talking, just thinking. The truth is, no matter how much the Demon seems attached to him, Alec knows they want to go home. He can feel a strange wistfulness in the room every now and again that doesn't belong to him. He hears melancholy sighs more often recently. He's been working up to it for a while, but it still feels unfair, to have to send the a Demon back when they've just gotten a taste of this world. 

"It's for the best, Alec," Izzy says kindly. "I think you've done enough, anyway."

"Alright. I guess you're right. Magnus and I will sort it out this weekend.” He frowns, peering into the room, watching the blue mingle with Jace’s slightly bewildered, outstretched arm, yarn looped over his wrist. “It's a shame, you know. The Demon was getting really good at crochet.” 

Izzy links their arms together, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “We’ll do it up a little care package to take with it.”

*

Magnus has been called many things in the course of his lifetime, but jealous hasn’t made the list all that often. He likes to think that he’s above that sort of thing, and if he’s not, then at least nobody else can tell that he’s secretly frothing at the mouth thanks to his carefully applicated mask.

The truth is, he’s had no real need to be jealous. Suspicious, yes, and aloof at times, after all the times he’s been too trusting and had his heart crushed, but rarely jealous. 

But where Alexander Lightwood is concerned, his needs and wants and feelings have tied themselves so tightly in knots that he has no idea where the strings used to lead.

“Why exactly would I want to go to a restaurant that we already know is likely to give a person food poisoning?” Magnus spears a cherry with a cocktail stick, holding it between his fingers like a dying cigarette. “We know from experience, Alexander. Awful, horrible experience. You didn't want to look at chicken for two whole weeks, and that was after I cured you.”

“Jace wants to try it out.” Alec hunkers further down into the couch cushions, flipping the pages of a dark, aged book gingerly. There’s a lump beside him, shaped roughly like a person, and it shines with a faint blue glow. It's been almost impossible to pry the Demon away from Alec for the last few days, ever since he made the relieving decision to send it back to its realm. The Demon had thrown an almighty tantrum, and then sulked silently for two hours before clinging to Alec’s side. Magnus would feel bad about separating the two of them, but he wants his boyfriend back, plain and simple. At least it isn't very long now.

“Your brother’s foolishness isn’t enough to tempt me into vomiting for an entire night, sadly.” Magnus pops the cherry in his mouth, chewing slowly as he waits for his drink to stop bubbling; he’s trying something new, to mixed results. The last one erupted in a shower of silver that scared the cat into hiding.

The Demon shuffles closer to Alec. Magnus watches Alec shiver at the rush of cold, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Maybe the next drink will scare the Demon into hiding. 

“Personal space,” Alec grumbles, glancing sideways at the Demon that he can’t quite see, but neither of them move away. Alec settles down a bit more comfortably on the couch while Magnus runs through several potentially upholstery-ruining spells in his head. 

“We’ll miss Scrabble night,” Magnus says, a last-ditch attempt at getting Alec to change his mind about the whole dinner thing. Usually he loves going out, especially with Alec beside him, but he doesn’t particularly want to spend one of their free evenings with Alec’s family, plus Simon and Clary, at a restaurant that he knows avidly sucks. 

Any other night, and he might have been up for it. But he feels as though whenever he’s seen Alec recently, he’s been accompanied by a blue glow that feels particularly smug. If they're going out, he wants it to be just him and Alec. He would like to spend some time with his boyfriend that doesn't involve the room growing colder, or a physical presence between them. 

Alec looks up then, his eyebrows lifting as he lowers the book. “Wow, you really don't want to go. You _hate_ Scrabble night.”

The Demon takes the opportunity to shuffle even closer, pressing up against Alec. Magnus thinks he can see its head drop down onto Alec’s shoulder. 

“I do not hate Scrabble night,” Magnus says, rolling his eyes. “I love any activity involving you. It’s just very boring, always winning, night after night, with absolutely no competition.”

Alec glowers up at him, opening his mouth to protest. Magnus fully expects a blow-by-blow recap of all of their games, but then Alec stops abruptly. 

“I know what you’re doing,” Alec says. “You’re trying to distract me so I won’t ask you what’s really wrong.”

Magnus puts the cocktail stick down on top of the bar and cancels the combustive element in his drink. He really shouldn’t be taken aback by how well Alec knows him by now, but he is. He always is. It’s startling, being known, and it pierces through the snippy, false veil he’s been wearing for the past few days. 

“Am I?” Magnus asks lightly, but it's no use. Alec raises an eyebrow, waiting. “It's nothing, Alexander. I'd just quite like to spend some time with you, that's all.” When Alec doesn't seem to get it, Magnus adds pointedly, “Alone.”

“You want…” Alec’s confused frown fades to one of startled realisation. Magnus turns sharply to avoid his knowing look. “Oh. Magnus, are you jealous?” 

Magnus sniffs indignantly. “Not that I'm aware of.” 

“I didn't think you got jealous.” 

“That would be because I don't.” 

Alec snorts a little laugh, warm and fond. “Magnus, come on.” 

Magnus turns and fixes Alec with a narrow look, freezing him in place. “Is it a crush?” 

“What?”

“The Demon. Does it have a crush on you?”

Alec glances sideways at the blue lump pressed against him. “No?”

“Then it seems I have no need to be jealous.” Magnus smiles sweetly, ignoring the deadpan, unimpressed look aimed his way. "Now, come along, Alexander. Disgustingly unhygienic restaurants wait for no man.”

*

One day and one violent bout of food poisoning later, and Magnus is sketching a pentagram on the floor with chalk. Alec stands and watches, arms crossed over his chest, while the Demon hovers beside him.

“Right.” Alec turns, surveying the blue swirls, a little more chaotic today. “I imagine it's going to be tempting to back to being cruel and vicious, when you return. Try to hold out, okay? You've got good in you.”

It's not something he ever thought he'd say to a Demon. 

“I’m going to miss you,” Alec adds. “Not just because you know how to bake really nice food, or because you always wash the dishes.”

The Demon wriggles and writhes happily. There are spots of darker blue where a blush is blooming. Alec gets swept up into a hug as Magnus puts the finishing touches on the pentagram, and he tries his best to squeeze back, pouring every bit of hope he can into the touch. He hoped, beyond hope, that the Demon stays good. 

“Here we go,” Magnus says, with a startling amount of gentleness. “Now, chin up, sweetheart. I know it'll be hard to be without Alexander, but I'm sure there are plenty of sweet, handsome young Demons down there who will gladly grope you in return.”

Alec snorts and chokes on a laugh. The Demon shifts, drifting over to the pentagram.They're about to step inside the chalk lines when Magnus stops them. 

“A care package for you,” Magnus says, holding up a small blue cube. “It may not look like much, but magic is a funny thing. Jace provided the music sheets, Clary said you could keep some of her art supplies, Simon has donated a few comics, and Isabelle stuffed this full of yarn and thread. As for Alec and I, we’ve packed a few gardening essentials, since you seemed to love the tomatoes so much. I'm not sure what the soil is like where you are, but it's worth a shot. We wouldn't want all those lessons to go to waste now, would we?” 

Alec didn't think it was possible to feel more love for Magnus than he already does, but as the Demon takes the cube, shy and reverent, Alec feels the well of affection grow deeper. 

“And I believe I owe you a thank you, even if you did use my money,” Magnus adds, beginning to open the pentagram. “The clothes you picked out look absolutely stunning on Alexander. You have excellent taste.” 

Alec doesn't need to see the Demon’s face to know they're grinning, wide and proud.

*

“You know what I don't get,” Alec says, stirring his coffee thoughtfully while Magnus flips the eggs with effortless ease.

“Why a luxury trip to the country of your choosing isn’t something that’s usually turned down?”

Alec rolls his eyes at the pleasant tone directed at him. He pops the toast down for another minute when it springs up and then takes his coffee over to Magnus, mindful of the spitting eggs. 

“No,” Alec says. “We said we were going to wait until next week to go on holiday, when things are more settled. What I don't get is why the Demon picked me instead of you.”

It's been a few days since the Demon went home, and things are oddly normal. He misses the sound of clattering teacups and the soft shush of clothes being folded, but it's nice to have things back to normal. It's especially nice to be able to kiss Magnus without being pulled apart a few seconds in. 

The heat on the stove turns down, seemingly by itself. Magnus links his fingers innocently through the handle of Alec’s mug, which prompts a small wrestling match. 

“Magnus,” Alec complains. “You said you didn't want any.”

Magnus takes a long sip and releases a satisfied sigh, his eyes smiling over the top of the mug. Alec can’t find it in him to be too mad about it, but coffee theft is a dangerous game to play. 

“What were you saying about the Demon?” Magnus sips again before Alec steals the mug back. 

“I was _saying_ that I don't know why they picked me to like instead of you, but maybe they sensed that you don't have any respect for people's caffeine.” 

“We rarely pick who we like, Alexander,” Magnus says, watching him with soft amusement. “Hence why you're dating a coffee fiend.” 

“Mmm.” Alec taps the side of his mug thoughtfully while Magnus wrangles their breakfast into submission, magic dancing about the kitchen. He follows the floating plates out to the balcony, listening to Magnus talk about the new flavour of coffee he ordered recently, and about how Madzie wants to come and see them soon. 

He supposes it's true that they don't pick and choose who to fall in love with. But Alec doesn't know how somebody could see Magnus, know Magnus, spend more than a _fraction_ of a second with him, and not fall head over heels. 

Alec waits until they're both settled on the cushioned chairs, overlooking the city, before he says his piece. 

“If we could pick who we fall for, I would still have picked you. Given the choice between you and anyone in the world, I’d have chosen you. And I’ll keep choosing you.” 

Magnus stares at him. In the morning light, he looks so very beautiful. Alec takes advantage of his stunned silence to swipe the hot, newly-made coffee from beside their plates and raise it to his lips. He expects a protest, a sort of joke or a snappy bit of magic, but he gets a kiss instead. 

He gets a kiss that says, without words, _I would choose you too. ___

__“Alexander,” Magnus says roughly, drawing back with a gentle squeeze to Alec’s hand. He doesn't seem to have any more words. That's alright, though. Alec knows exactly what he means, just from the sound of his name in his mouth._ _

__Alec hands Magnus the coffee, picks up a slice of toast, and sits back, the nearby tomatoes growing ripe and red beneath the morning sun._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sort of really wanted to keep the Demon with them, but sadly it did not turn out that way. I do think the Demon is having a wonderful time though. Growing tomatoes, dating Demons their own age, spreading goodness, reminiscing fondly about handsome Shadowhunters, and makin' scarves for the greater good. 
> 
> Thanks again for all the loveliness! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! Let me know what you thought! <3


End file.
